Arthur sat at a near-by desk writing a letter; Uncle John glanced over the morning paper; Inez, the Mexican nurse, brought baby to Louise for a kiss before it went for a ride in its perambulator.
An hour had passed when Le Drieux entered the lobby in company with a thin-faced, sharp-eyed man in plain clothes.

They walked directly toward the group that was seated by the open alcove window, and Arthur Weldon, observing them and knowing what was about to happen, rose from the writing-desk and drew himself tensely together as he followed them.

Uncle John lowered his paper, frowned at Le Drieux and then turned his eyes upon the face of young Jones.
It was the thin-featured man who advanced and lightly touched the boy's arm.
"Beg pardon, sir," said he, in even, unemotional tones.

"You are Mr.
Andrews, I believe--Mr.Jack Andrews ?" The youth turned his head to look at his questioner.
"No, sir," he answered with a smile.

"A case of mistaken identity.